Marathon Of Life

Who said a quadriplegic cannot run The Comrades?

Well this one did.

It all began a little more than six months ago. I met Roy Heine online. We began “chatting”. He told me that he was chairman of his running club and that he had been a keen runner. I told him that one of the very few regrets I have in my life is that I never ever got to run The Comrades – something I had never doubted I would do – until I broke my neck – that is. He immediately replied and said that he would run the next Comrades for me. I thought how sweet yeah right!

I was deeply touched that a complete stranger would offer to do something like that for me. I was flattered but also somewhat amused. I doubted his commitment. I was suspicious of his intentions.

Roy and I continued to e-mail one another and we spoke on the phone occasionally. It quickly became clear to me that he was actually a nice man – a real gentleman – with a heart of gold. I liked him. But, I remained guarded. He indicated that he wanted to meet me in person. I was amazed. He was willing to drive more than 1000 km to see me. I put him off. I reasoned in my mind. What if he is some weirdo – in reality?  What if I didn’t like him and I was stuck with him sleeping on my couch for a few days? What if I did like him? What is the point of meeting him? He lives in Port Elizabeth. I live in Nelspruit. Miles apart. What if…?

Our interactions continued – we poured our hearts out to one another in long e-mails. We could relate to each other in many ways as we have both had physical and emotional setbacks in our lives. He had had a heart attack in 2005 and was recently divorced. He needed somebody to talk to and I was able to listen. Our friendship blossomed.

He would give me reports – almost daily – on our training. To be honest, I didn’t give it too much attention, at first. It all seemed a bit surreal. A part of me really didn’t want to hear how well – or badly – his training was going.

I was resentful – silently. I would give anything to feel that ache in my limbs. But, somehow, Roy already knew that. And that is exactly what kept him going.

I was angry. Does this man honestly think that it’s going to make it easier for me to accept that I am paralysed from the neck down if he runs The Comrades Marathon for me? I should have been running my own bloody race!

I was dubious. Who, in their right bloody mind, is going to run 90 km for somebody else – a woman he had never even met face-to-face – and then simply hand over the medal?

Another part of me was joyful and excited that I had the ability to inspire a man in his fifties to attempt a tough, ultra-marathon between Pietermaritzburg and Durban. Wow! That’s big! Huge!

Somewhere along the line Roy decided that he was going to do the Ironman as well. Typical! Now he’s on his own bloody mission. There is no way in hell he is going to do two such epic events, one after the other, unless he is a super-human-machine. So there goes The Comrades – my Comrades!

I paid even less attention to his ramblings on about his running, cycling and swimming. Besides I was a runner. I knew nothing about the other two disciplines – and I didn’t care to know either – although, I never ever admitted this to Roy. I just encouraged him and kept my feelings to myself.

He completed the Ironman. I was so very proud of him. But, I remained fearful – of disappointment. Then, he caught a cold. I knew it! Here come the excuses.

Miraculously, he recovered, just in time. In the days leading up to The Comrades, I allowed myself to become excited, for the first time.

I worried about him driving so far to get there. Dear God, please let him get there safely.

We were in constant cell phone contact. The night before the big day I had butterflies in my tummy. I was anxious. What if he did not make it? What if I had put too much pressure on him? What if he got injured? What if he had another heart attack? What if…? Oh God, please don’t let anything happen to him.

I realized then, that I cared about this man. We had become close and special friends. No stupid bloody medal can ever replace that.

I was awake long before the race began – eyes, ears, heart, mind and spirit glued to the television set. The Chariots of Fire playing in the background and the sound of the cock crowing overwhelmed me with a flood of tears and a wave of intense – but mixed – emotions as thousands of runners set off in the dark, to run a very long way. Oh God, why can’t I be there? Why can’t I run? Why…

I lay there sobbing – for at least an hour. My ears were wet, my cheeks itchy and my pillow cold – with tears.

I called my care assistants to get me up. I was ratty with them as I hurried them up to get me ready for the day. I didn’t want to miss another minute of this race. They never said a word as they worked patiently through my morning routine. God bless them.

I spent the day in my Lazyboy recliner in front of the TV with my laptop. Our race number was 32034. I was tracking our progress on the net. I had to stop myself from texting Roy too often. I didn’t want to distract him but I wanted, desperately, to motivate him. I was sending out tweets on Twitter and enjoying the fun and interaction with my supporters. I watched as thousands of runners crossed my TV screen all day long – eagerly waiting to see Roy running for us.

As I watched some of the runners with their grimaces of physical pain and mental exhaustion and others with their tears of joy at their wonderful achievement, I was on my own roller coaster of emotion. I marveled at the optimism, courage, determination and the ability of the human spirit to rise above physical and psychological challenges. As the day progressed, and with each step the runners took, I became more introspective and realized that my life is a model of a marathon – in a sense.

Running – and completing – a marathon is goosebump stuff. Hmmm…I get goosebumps too – but usually only when my bowel or bladder need to be emptied. Sigh.

I’ve had to overcome several obstacles in my life and reach beyond my limits using a strong, positive mental attitude. A marathon requires all your mental and physical resources in order to complete. No matter how much you have trained, every runner reaches a point where you will hit the wall but you must find a way to get through it.

I thought about Roy when he sent me a text message saying that his quads are gone. I wondered if he was saying what I have said time and time again. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t care what I promised. I don’t care who is watching. I am exhausted – physically and mentally. I want to lie down and die and sleep now.

I sent him a text message back. Come on, my darling, do it for this Quad!

I hoped that it would give him the ability to look ahead – to see that he is not alone – to see that there are others, along the way, who are worse off and to remember that consistency is the key. The Comrades Marathon is a compressed, intense and grueling form of life you experience within the confines of twelve hours. But, these lessons can be carried through into your everyday life within the margins of (hopefully) eighty years, or more. Running – like life – gives you setbacks – it messes with you physically and psychologically – and then you go on.

The joy of seeing Roy running into the stadium with a huge poster of me saying … For My Friend… Tracy Todd will stay with me forever. I was so proud of him. Roy Heine believed in himself even though I didn’t. He taught me that the most powerful people in the world are the ones who believe in themselves. Roy’s dedication reminded me to continue believing in myself. I too, can have the power to make a difference to this world.

Somehow, from somewhere, I have also managed to get the encouragement, motivation and inspiration to go on which gives me the strength for the toughest marathon of all – the marathon of life.

Thank you, Roy Heine, for being my friend. You are a great inspiration to me.